


Change of Plans

by monophobian



Series: Drabbles [5]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, I don't, Smut, bars and guns and smut oh my!, i wish i had a name for this au, in which i adore protective uchiha fam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-04
Updated: 2017-09-04
Packaged: 2018-12-23 23:13:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11999940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/monophobian/pseuds/monophobian
Summary: Nothing in their plans said anything of opening fire on her beloved bar.





	Change of Plans

He flicked the glass.

A glance around the bar told her what she needed to know. One near the door dressed in a brown coat and borrowed wig, nursing a beer that by now had gone warm. Two along the wall, chatting amicably over nothing while their drinks remained untouched, the ice in one already melted. What a waste. Ordering her preferred drink when she couldn’t indulge to just ignore the entire thing.

Without even tasting it! If she could wring their necks, she would just for the waste of alcohol. At least they already paid their tab.

There was a loud party in the far corner, though the noise had softened. As had the flirts. Ordering a drink didn’t give them the right to grabbing her ass and she wasted no time setting that example. Seems the bag of ice was long gone now and judging from the way he was holding his cup; his wrist was feeling better. Idiots. All of them.

The woman at the end of the bar had originally overlooked. A good choice in tequila, a bit of ice and some lime and Sakura almost didn’t bother looking her way again. She drank her first on a slightly quicker pace than normal, but had slowed down on her second. In about ten minutes, Sakura would offer another, though she didn’t think it would last that long.

He flicked the glass again.

A newcomer sat to Sakura’s right, dull eyes perusing over the bottles behind her before finally shifting to her. Her usual ire as he swept down and then back up was nowhere to be found, her body holding nothing of interest for him. But still he didn’t speak and she finally set down the glass she’d been drying.

“What can I get you?” His glasses were fake. No prescription, no tint, cheap frame. The watch on his wrist a knock off and she half expected his voice to be raspy from a forced timber he didn’t naturally possess.

“Gin and tonic, please.”

Multiple guns cocked and she barely ducked in time before the shooting started.

***

“I’m going to kill you.”

There was glass everywhere. Covering the ground behind the bar, littering all of her glasses and bottles and even her hair, she’d be finding pieces for the next month. Wood splintered and a puddle of blood was starting to seep over the bar top underneath the man slumped over.

“Seven.” He didn’t move, but she knew he heard her. Hard not to when it’s the only sound in the room. “Seven fucking guns. You do realize I could have accomplished that with a single bottle?!”

His jaw jumped and she had him. The crunch of glass under her shoes was loud and jarring, but remained ignored.

“My entire bar is ruined now, all because of your bullshit dramatics.”

“We can fix—”

“ _We?!_ ” There’s the wince, that black gaze finally leaving hers as he swayed backward. “There’s no fucking ‘we’ in this. _You,”_ her finger jabbed his chest harshly, “are going to fix my bar.”

“Sweet—”

“Don’t you ‘Sweetheart’ me, you idiot,” she snarled, rounding on the second man as he pulled off that god forsaken wig, his normally curly black hair looking a little flat. “If you really cared about my bar, both of you would have just let me handled it and we wouldn’t even be having this discussion. Instead, we have to get out of here before someone shows up and you _ruined my bar!_ ”

Unlocking one of the cabinets, she retrieved her purse and hand piece, clipping the holster at the small of her back and swinging the bag onto her shoulder. She grabbed a rag and pressed it to the empty space at the end of the bar behind the trash can, waiting for the wall to quietly slide out of the way.

“I don’t know why she’s so angry,” came low mutter behind her. “It’s not even her—”

“You wanna finish that, Uchiha?!” A flash of aggravation flew through his gaze before Itachi elbowed him in the side. Sakura waited until it finally died out and he huffed out a sigh. “I didn’t think so. Make sure you don’t track blood through here.”

It was a long, quiet trip back to the compound.

***

Her purse dropped onto the table in the foyer and it wasn’t long before the door to the grounds slammed closed. With two particular pairs of eyes flicking from the quick exit the little spitfire of pink hair made back to the two of them still standing in the doorway, Itachi cursed the entire evening.

“Trouble in paradise?” Of all people, Madara was not the one he wanted to see.

It was a miracle no one heard his teeth grinding.

“She should be fine,” Shisui chirped, one hand already reviving the curls in his black hair. How he could remain so thick headed when Sakura was obviously far from _fine_ , Itachi didn’t know.

Ignoring the raised eyebrows, he stepped out of his shoes and began unloading most of his weapons. The majority were kept in the gun safe just off the kitchen, his personal favorite would go in the bedroom. He was putting away his extra casing of bullets when the rounds started firing outside.

“What did you two do now?” Mikoto’s concern soothed a bit of Itachi’s ire as she approached the back windows and watched Sakura demolish a target sheet.

“Itachi ruined the bar.”

That _idiot._

“Completely demolished it.” Shisui emptied his own pockets and holsters, though ignoring the favored one on his left hip. “Good thing we bullet proofed the bar, else she’d have been shot in the crossfire.”

When Madara’s _and_ Mikoto’s gazes held the same look, Itachi knew he had to set the record straight.

“Where’s Father?” he asked first, pouring out four glasses from the decanter sitting at the end of the den.

“Took Sasuke to the supplier. They wanted to test out the new shipment and see if it was something we could use.” His mother seemed to know what else he was asking. “Everyone else is out for the day.”

Itachi nodded and slid the drinks over.

“He knew who she was. He was planning to shoot the moment she turned her back. We found this,” he tossed the emptied piece to Madara, knowing he’d recognize it immediately, “in his pocket. It wasn’t a risk I was willing to take.”

Madara was silent looking at the very thing he’d been looking for over the last three weeks and even Mikoto’s eyes softened. That was all Itachi needed to see. Sakura could certainly take care of herself, but that wasn’t a risk any of them were willing to chance.

“So that’s why you changed the plan last minute.” Understanding dawned in Shisui’s eyes before they clouded again with resentment. “He died too quickly.”

“We have other leads,” Itachi said, ignoring the growing wealth of what-ifs. “We can find information through another source. You got your gun back and we now know there’s a leak somewhere. Might be useful to do a spring cleaning while we rebuild the bar.”

“What good timing.” Mikoto paused for a sip, no wince to be found as she settled into the plush chair against the window. “Sakura was saying she wanted to redo the décor, weren’t you?”

A chill ran down his spine when Sakura’s voice answered from behind him.

“Yeah. I thought we could incorporate better view points and safety measures.” Her voice was hesitant, carefully controlled and Itachi could feel her gaze on the back of his head as sharp as a brand. “Though…thank you for implementing one of them early.”

The boards to that bar would have splintered under the fire they opened earlier. Itachi didn’t want to think of what would happen if they hadn’t.

“Are you bleeding?” He jerked at his mother’s words, turning to see pricks of blood sitting around her neck and shoulders.

Sakura looked down, calm features remaining so as she gently prodded at the skin. “Ah. Glass.” Careful, skilled fingers plucked out a piece. “Better go wash all of this off.”

He ached with a sadness that her vibrant green eyes hadn’t landed on him before she walked off to their suite. He wanted to follow, get up from there and pull out every shard from her, coast his hands up and down her curves until he was reminded that she was safe. When he turned back to the company, all three held varying expressions of understanding.

“Go,” Madara granted. “We’ll discuss this when Fugaku returns.”

***

Bending over the counter wearing only her underwear when Itachi walked in was usually on purpose, but that moment it was the furthest thing from her mind. She’d managed to get most of the shards between her fingers and the tweezers, but there were some a little more stubborn. It would be easy to jump in the shower and follow the sting to pieces still remaining, but the water would make it harder to grasp the glass. And this way, she knew the piece would land in the sink instead of accidentally on the floor.

After so long of picking out glass, she didn’t want to pick more out of her feet.

He was silent for a bit, watching carefully as she cleaned out her shoulders. Her neck was surprisingly safe, not many having stuck there. The crease of her shoulders, though, seemed to be a good hiding spot for the ones she was still struggling with.

He’d grabbed the tweezers and was looking for her before she found her voice to speak. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

A sudden relief of pressure and a larger piece dropped onto the counter.

“By the time I knew, it was too late. I would have looked suspicious approaching you—”

“No, I mean after. When we were leaving.” A blush rose up her neck. “When I was yelling at you.”

Three more pieces came out before he answered. “We never tested the bar.”

His fear that a bullet got through remained unsaid, but she didn’t need to hear it to know it was there.

“I think that’s all,” he said a bit later, hands so incredibly gentle as they slid along her skin. “You might want to take a shower, though. The water will tell if there’s any left.”

She caught his hand, waiting patiently until he met her gaze through the mirror. Sakura would need to apologize for taking her anger out on him, even if it had been justified. She knew better than to let her emotions run over in the middle of a scene like that. But she wouldn’t then. That apology would have to wait until Shisui was there. Exploding in public didn’t deserve a private reconciliation.

When he did meet her gaze, though, she offered a different treaty. “Join me?”

His hands remained gentle as they combed through her hair. Thorough in removing any dust, debris, and glass he could find, loving as silent kisses littered over her shoulder. Blood washed away quickly, the shallow wounds closing under the spray of hot water and she gave in to the treatment. He wanted to make sure she was safe; she had done the same thing to him countless times before.

When his hands left her hair, she shifted. Coasting up and down her waist in a sure slide, dipping down along her hips as she pressed back against him, she loved the feel of him there. Hard and silky at the small of her back and teeth dull against an unmarked part of her shoulder, Sakura wished for not the first time to be taller. To be at a good height for him to part her thighs and slip in. Once when she spoke that wish, he’d chuckled and lifted her, fitting her back to the tiled wall and wrapping her legs around his waist.

They had their own ways of getting over something so silly as a height issue.

This time, though, he didn’t bother. One hand followed the line of her hip, past the trim hair she knew he appreciated and through silky folds. Her gasp was sharp as he found her clit, coaxing more with teasing strokes. She parted her thighs in a blatant invitation for more, but he remained where he was. Mouthing over the sensitive skin on her neck and nudging her toward an orgasm that would only leave her wanting to be filled.

But when that peak approached he stopped, flicking off the water and sliding open the shower door. A complaint left her lips in the form of a groan, turning to pull him back in, but he evaded.

Instead, Itachi held out a plush towel for her to step into and quickly dried her off before finally lifting her into his arms. Not to set her on the counter and settle between her thighs or put her against the wall and thrust up in the way they both wanted, but to carry her until she was laid on their bed. And when he did part her thighs, his mouth latched over her first.

It was obvious that he was determined to give with the way his tongue curled in her and his hands found all the spots he’d learned over the years. Pleasure pricked over her skin, building in a tight twist below her stomach as she arched into him, her nails raking over his scalp in an attempt to react. Already she’d learned not to be _too_ loud. Even with most sound muffled, some particularly loud cries from her tended to travel.

Itachi, though, seemed to not care as he sought out every single sound she could give.

Another cusp, right there as she could feel the build coming to a point, and he backed off again. Lips glistening as he kissed up her body, he didn’t stop until one hand gripped her thigh, hiking it around one hip as she repeated the same with the other. His length was hot against her, sliding along until he was coated in her slick.

“Itachi,” she moaned, pushing her hips up again. “Itachi, come on.”

His lips grazed over her collar bone before he lined up, one glorious, slow thrust as he slid completely in. Breath puffed out over her ear, a groan following as she tightened around him. He always felt good, always filled her in a way she had loved since the first time, and her quivering muscles didn’t waste any time massaging over him again.

His pace was slow, but steady. Long, deep strokes as he continued kissing every bit of skin he could reach, one hand beside her ear holding him up while the other delved into her hair. She returned the movement until they were kissing, tongues moving slow and languid to match the rhythm of his hips. It would be a slower build than either his fingers in the shower or his tongue just before, but she was pacified; she would reach it with him.

Her body was so ready, but he was gentle, loving. Feeling every inch as he slid out, accepting him as he slid in, she offered gasps and cries and low moans as the pleasure built one last time. He kissed her in return, nibbled over her neck, thumbed over her breasts before one hand slid down between their bodies. Only then did his rhythm change, quickening enough as they both neared.

Arching into his hand and hips, twisting on the sheets, she came apart underneath him as wave after wave of pleasure swept through her body. He followed, filling her with warmth as her muscles continued spasming over him and he grunted out his own pleasure into her skin. Sparks and waves stuttered through until she settled against the mattress with a sigh.

“I love you.” Low and quiet seemed to be the theme and it continued as she ran her fingers through his damp hair. “Thank you for being there today.” 

He smiled against her neck, small and perfect. “Thank you for being here now.”

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this for Smut Monday on tumblr -- first time ever participating. I wasn't even thinking about it and then this kinda happened. 
> 
> Prompt was "Glasses" and I definitely added my own spin to it.
> 
> Please let me know what you think! Reviews make the world go 'round.


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